Saturday Blessings

Finally, we get to see my brother.  He’s been in Jacksonville, Florida at a missionary candidate training, teaching classes.

Jon and Carolyn brought one of their granddaughters with them.  Today was the first time for seven year old Sophia Claire and I  to meet.  She’s just beautiful.

My favorite brother.  I’m also his favorite sister.

This afternoon, Don and I went to see Mama and we also went to the grocery store for her.  On the drive into Trenton, we passed a garden.

The garden really made us hungry for fresh veggies, so we were delighted when we saw the veggie stand open and selling beautiful, fresh produce.

A view of Lookout Mountain from a Trenton.

Lookout Creek Drive.

A dear, sweet friend (hope she reads this :-)) made a fleece throw for me and one for Mama Trudy.  Mama loves it, can you tell?  She even arranged it so it looks like it has a collar.  What a sassy lady!  Would you believe that she’s only a week this side of 92 years?  Mama Trudy says, “Thank you very much, Kathy Gordon. This was so sweet of you!”

I love my mama’s hands. The two pictures on the right are my hand over hers and me holding her hand.   

Today, she signed a formed to receive an ‘advantage’ card from a local grocery store.  Her signature was so steady and smooth, just the same as it’s always been.

This is the hand I held yesterday as we prayed together.

Mother's Hands
by Janet Martin © 2009

Not because of gold or silver,
Not because of jeweled bands,
Not because they're soft and perfect,
Do I love my mother's hands,
But because these hands once held me
Tenderly close to her breast,
And because these hands would point me
Down a path she knew was best

Mother's hands so gladly labored,
Mother's hands so seldom still,
Never seeking her own favor,
Giving always her free will,
But the thing of greatest beauty
As she tended to each care,
Was her source of strength for duty,
Mother's hands were hands of prayer

Mother's hands would clap to praise me
For a good deed I had done,
Mother's hands were there to save me
When my deeds would hurt someone,
And my mother's hands would teach me
What is right and what is good,
Mother's hands would always reach me
When no other hand ere could

Mother's hands, so full of power
When her load was hard to bear,
Even in life's darkest hour
Mother's hands would fold in prayer,
Oh, no matter where I travel,
Or how great the sights or grand,
There is none to make me marvel
Like my mother's praying hands

Praying hands can reach her children
When they're oh, so far away,
Mother knows that God will reach them
As she folds her hands to pray,
Gracious Father, up in Heaven,
Bless each mother everywhere,
In each country, tribe or nation,
Bless the hands, the hands of prayer.